


The Ballad of Artureus

by lindenmae



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindenmae/pseuds/lindenmae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many legends that end up lost or forgotten in the passage of time.  This is one such legend- the story of the only male nymph to ever exist and his closely guarded virginity and a demigod with no interest in being a hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Artureus

**Author's Note:**

> Incredibly cracky Greek myth AU.  Based on [this prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/17947.html?thread=39956507#t39956507) on the Inception kink meme.  
> Just in case some of the substitutions aren't obvious enough, the characters are as follows-  
> Zeus-Saito  
> Dionysus-Yusuf  
> Ariadne-Ariadne  
> Theseus-Cobb  
> Apollo-Robert  
> Pan-Nash  
> 

Everyone knows the story of Orpheus, how he played the lyre and made animals weep and braved the Underworld for his lost love and blah blah blah. The story most people don’t know, is that of his cousin Artureus, son of the Muse Clio, keeper of resplendent notes, regular wallflower, and determined virgin. Now, it’s not that Artureus wasn’t beautiful, because he was. Oh! How, he was. Artureus could lay a man low with a single arch of his finely groomed brow and should he deign to offer up a smile? Why, the gods themselves would swoon at the clever way his cheeks dimpled and his eyes sparkled. Artureus was very beautiful indeed, but he felt himself above the activities of regular nymphs and rarely felt any inclination to join in their gay affairs.

Artureus did not like to have flowers braided into his bouncing curls or wrapped around his delicate wrists (which were, in fact, not delicate at all and actually quite thick and veiny, thank you very much) and began slicking his hair back with olive oil and a crown of laurel leaves when he was very young, to deter the other nymphs from treating him like their personal doll. Artureus was also not fond of dancing nor of leaping gaily nor of lounging around exposed and besotted with drink, just waiting for a horny god or even hornier satyr to chance upon him and engage him in a pointless game of chase that would ultimately end in a quick, and unsatisfying tryst with his toga around his ankles and his partner trying to reassure him that ‘that never happens! Must be all of the wine I drank! Damn Yusuf and his festivals’ and on and on and on. That is if they even bothered to excuse themselves at all. No, Artureus was not one for pointless endeavors, which was how he’d managed to be the only male nymph in, according to his meticulously kept records, _ever_ , and still retain his virginity.

It helped that he’d grown up with the delusion that he was going to be a hunter or a soldier and that someday there would be a nymph keeping historical records of _his_ feats. He’d learned to fight and shoot a bow and all around kick some ass, something Orpheus had never done. Stupid Orpheus with his stupid lyre getting to be a stupid Argonaut. Stupid. But Artureus was not envious of his cousin, oh no, because he was quite happy, surrounded by great people doing great things that he then got to write about afterwards. Yep, awesome.

Oh, the fates had smiled upon Artureus for certain, with teeth, and they’d probably laughed a little bit too, over their golden thread. Other little known facts about Artureus: he was actually the father of cynicism and sarcasm but he was never given credit for that either.

Artureus, when not doing his nymphly note-taking so that his mother could later inspire the likes of Xenophon and Homer, spent much of his time with Ariadne, wife of Dionysus, better known to his friends as Yusuf. They made an odd pair, mostly because Ariadne, now freed from her life trying to save Athenian youths from dying at the hands of the minotaur in her father’s labyrinth, had taken quite keenly to her new life married to the god of revelry. Not a whole lot of organization there, precisely why Artureus was not a fan.

“You know what you could do? Join Artemis’s entourage. You could gossip about being stick-in-the-mud virgins together, sick your dogs on anyone who looks at you the wrong way. You’d make a great pair.” Ariadne was prone to such slurs against his character, believing herself to be witty and insightful, gesturing with her goblet and sloshing blood red wine over the sides, unconcerned when it dripped down her arm.

As previously mentioned, Artureus could make a man swoon with just the slightest twitch of his delicate brow.He could also emotionally wound them beyond repair with a single glare. This was not so of the fair Ariadne, who only laughed at him and lost even more wine in the act. Artureus could not be sure whether he was particularly appreciative or aggrieved of her strength of will. The scale tipped in different directions on different days. Artureus relaxed his glare, if only to get Ariadne to quit snorting before wine came out her nose.

Now, it is not to be said that Artureus did not suffer from the same carnal desires as the gods and the satyrs and his other nymphs. He was a man and, inexplicably, a nymph and he felt the pull of arousal like anyone else, but he was not particularly inclined to be attracted to goat phallus or taken against his will by a self-absorbed god who thought it was funny to get innocent women high and then whisper riddles in their ears, then watch humans ruin their lives trying to solve them and divine their own futures.

Artureus did not value his virginity above all things, though he did tend to view his distinct lack of any communicable diseases as something to be held over the heads of the others, nor did he horde it away as a prize to be won by an epic hero... exactly. It should be remembered that Artureus was the son of the Muse of History and therefore spent entirely too much of his time reading and recording _other people's epic love stories_. Including Orpheus's, the little bitch.

So, truthfully, all Artureus really wanted was to be swept off his feet by his very own legendary hero, with bulging muscles and skin that glowed golden in the sun and constantly glistened as if always coated with a thin layer of oil, and the strength to tear a lion apart with his bare hands but a gentle and loving heart that would allow him to handle Artureus with only the gentlest of caresses, unless Artureus _wanted_ it rough, of course. Let it not be said that Artureus had no imagination.

Now, despite what many of the satyrs and the one, particularly _persistent_ , god who had attempted to seduce -read: accost him- said, Artureus was not a cruel man, just preternaturally grumpy because of the whole _being a nymph with a dick_ thing, and so he did not choose to remind Ariadne, at that time or any other even though he often really, really wanted to, of how she came to be the wife of the god of wine and revelry. He could bring to light her past mistakes in order to better defend himself against her verbal assaults on his prudishness, but it would not change the fact that she had gotten her happy ending and he, still, had not.

Oh, the tales of times long past are twisted tales indeed and the tale of Artureus cannot be fully understood without also knowing the story of Eames, son of Hermes, thief extraordinaire, trickster, and mercenary. Eames, unlike his brother Pan, had been born fully human and handsome, even as a babe. His life, until he was set on the path that would lead him to Artureus, was mostly uneventful. His mother was a beautiful princess of one or another city-state whose father, following the rules given to all Greek nobility when faced with having a beautiful daughter but not a monster demanding virgin sacrifices, had her locked in a small room with stone walls and only one window from which she could see the sky and receive food and water. This was the standard method of protecting the multitudes of beautiful Greek youths from the insatiable lust of the horn-dog gods, having an astounding success rate of 0%.

So, the beautiful princess was locked away, but she spent every day staring out her small window, lest she go batshit insane because her father locked her in a room for her entire life for no good reason, and was spied one day by the god Hermes masquerading as a fox. Now, the window was small so that the princess could not get out and no one could get in, but bestiality was all the rage at the time and the gods took advantage of that. Hermes transformed himself into a bee and flew in the window, seduced the princess, and knocked her up. Nine months later she gave birth to Eames, believing he would grow up to become a great hero, because that’s what demigods did. Several years after that, when Eames had shown no inclination that he was planning to do anything of _any_ importance, his mother gently but swiftly kicked him out of the proverbial nest, encouraging him to go make his name, become a hero or a king or accidentally fulfill a horrible prophecy while actively trying to foil it. It was not important _what_ Eames did as long as he did it somewhere else.

Still he did not do anything remarkably notable. He wandered around aimlessly for a few years, picking pockets and cheating at gambling to keep himself clothed and fed, _well_ fed. He learned to fight after the first time he got caught stealing and cheating at gambling and had very nearly lost a hand before he was able to distract his captors and get away. It turned out that getting paid to fight was a simple enough way to get his name out there and make money, whilst also affording him ample opportunities to case the homes of the wealthy and noble, and then kindly relieve them of their most valuable earthly possessions at a later date.

Oh, but life was good for the demigod Eames then. He was happy and handsome and incredibly intelligent and he had no real desire to get his foot into the doors of Olympus just yet, but ultimately it was not to be his choice. Perhaps the fates had finished laughing at poor, virginal, bookworm Artureus or perhaps they had only just begun.

  
The story of Eames does not truly start until the day he decided to steal from a wealthy king named Saito and even then, not until the very second he was caught. King Saito was not a man that Eames was very familiar with, a rare lapse of judgment and one that would ultimately change the course of his life. For the king Saito was actually the god Zeus in disguise and he was not particularly pleased to find Eames liberating him of his considerable treasures.

Kneeling on the cold floor before the king of the gods, Eames was offered a bargain-

"Since you are the son of my son, I shall offer you a chance to redeem yourself. You will complete one seemingly impossible task and I will consider this transgression forgotten."

"Just the one, then? Not the standard twelve?"

"Well, normally that would be the case, but Hercules has already completed all of the good ones and I'm not feeling particularly creative at the moment."

So, Zeus as Saito gave Eames a quest-

"In the forests below Olympus there live a wealth of fantastical creatures. Among these creatures there is a nymph who spurns the advances of all: human, satyr, and god alike. It is your task to seduce this nymph."

"Are you trying to tell me that somewhere out there is a _virgin_ nymph?" At the very least, Eames was a conman and not one for being conned.

"That is precisely what I'm saying."

"Well, not that I'm not grateful to receive what might possibly be the simplest task in all of mythology-" It should be remembered that Eames was strikingly handsome and incredibly intelligent and also quite full of himself "- but might I ask what _you_ get out of this arrangement?"

"The god Apollo has been... _monopolizing_ , for lack of a better word, mortal worship. He has several more temples than I do and it has made him... cocky."

"I _have_ heard that Apollo is quite handsome. They say his eyes are bluer than the sky." Upon Saito's fearsome glare being leveled on him, Eames lowered his head and got back on track. "So, how exactly does the nymph fit into all this?"

"I was getting to that. Apollo is really quite fond of this nymph but, as of yet, he has been continuously rebuffed. I believe that losing the chance to conquer the nymph will teach him a lesson."

"Forgive my asking another question, but couldn't you just turn the nymph into a tree or something else of an equally un-boneable nature? Wouldn't that be neater?"

And Saito regarded Eames for a few slow seconds that felt like eons before narrowing his eyes and responding, "no."

"I see. And if I were to refuse this task?"

"Then I shall smite you."

"While that is convincing, won't Apollo be wont to smite me as well after I steal his nymph right out from under him?"

"That is not really any of my concern. My first choice was Theseus. I was going to offer him a way home to his family, but he beat me to it by killing the Minotaur. Brilliant man, it is really too bad I could not use him."

"Right then. Well, as I should like to avoid a good smiting for at least another year or so, I guess we have an agreement. Point me in the direction of this nymph and I shall seduce her and I shall go down in history as Eames, seducer of nymphs. My mother shall be so proud."

Emboldened by his new sense of purpose, Eames rose from his knees and looked to the direction of Mount Olympus, and only pocketed a few of Saito's many jewels on his way out. This may or may not be why Saito chose not to inform Eames that the nymph he was looking for was not a _her_ at all. Or it might just have been a way to up the entertainment value. The gods weren't known for being a particularly sympathetic group.

…

Eames made his way to Olympus, and for a year he traveled until he was weary with having seduced every nubile nymph he had come across. Really a year wasn't so bad, with standard travel time in Ancient Greece falling around ten years and Eames having a time sensitive task, he couldn't afford to dillydally with sirens and Cyclops and the like. There was only so long his nymph would be able to hold out against Apollo and if Eames didn't get there first he could be sure of a painful death by lightning bolt, as opposed to a painful death by arrows made of pure sunlight. It was a conundrum for sure, stuck between a rock and a hard place, but there wasn't much he could do but fulfill the task that Saito had set him and then get the hell out of dodge before Apollo could strike him down. It was utter shit it was, but what could he do?

During all the time that Eames was searching for the virgin nymph, Artureus was busy defending his virtue from all who would defile him, a list that got progressively shorter as the list of people whose bones Artureus had broken grew longer. Until there were no suitors left, none but Apollo whose bones Artureus could not break because of the whole _god_ thing. It was totally unfair.

"Maybe you should just give him a chance, Artureus. He's been trying to get into your toga for _years_ now. Maybe he's in love with you." Being married to the god of wine and revelry had made Ariadne optimistic and romantic and convinced of the idea that everyone should be just as happy as she was. Perhaps she thought her happiness was contagious, because she spent entirely too much of her time lounging about while nymphs braided her hair, trying to convince Artureus to loosen up.

"I mean, I wouldn't have chosen to be left stranded on a beach in the middle of the Aegean, but if Theseus hadn't left me behind then I would never have met Yusuf and I'd probably still be stuck in Crete, which would be _horrible_. My mom boned a bull, Artureus. That kind of thing stays with you forever. But it's not so embarrassing having a bull monster for a brother when you're surrounded by satyrs every day. They can't really judge."

"Oh, so we're doing that now? It's okay to talk about Theseus dumping you on some random shore while you were sleeping?"

"It's okay for _me_ to talk about it. You still don't get to or I'll throw you to the maenads during tonight’s festival."

"Very mature, Ariadne." But Artureus shuddered nonetheless at the implication, for the maenads were crazy bitches and Artureus very much liked all of his limbs connected to his body.

"I don't have to be mature! I'm married to the god of revelry, Artureus, _revelry_ , not maturity. Also, I get laid on a regular basis. My life rocks."

And Artureus leveled upon her his most fearsome glare, the one that made grown men pee their togas, but Ariadne only returned his stare and then proceeded to dump her wine in his lap.

"Seriously? This toga was woven by Arachne _before_ Athena turned her into a spider! I can't replace this!"

"Well then you'd better get to the nearest stream before the stain sets, huh?"

And his response was so eloquent and cutting that it blew Ariadne's mind. "Ugh."

And at that, Artureus left the company of Ariadne and set off for the nearest stream to soak his toga before the stain set. And he was come upon whilst he bathed, when his skin was glittering with water droplets like diamonds in the moonlight and his hair was falling in loose, damp curls around his face, by a weary traveler who was so taken with his beauty that he could not help but call out to him.

"Well, hello there, darling."

…

And it was thus that Artureus first encountered Eames, who stood at the bank of the stream, dusty and sweaty and unshaven, looking every bit like the marble statues that the mortals erected to their heroes, with his rippling muscles and his high cheek bones and his snaggle-toothed smirk (okay so maybe not so much the last bit). But Artureus, who had spent nearly all of his life rebuffing the advances of unwanted suitors, could not be moved by simple good looks alone, though he could admit that these were some very good looks. _Uninterested_ , Artureus chose to ignore the stranger because there was a _stain_ in his _favorite toga_ and that was so much more important.

But for Eames, one hastily uttered greeting was not to be enough. Upon seeing Artureus’s face, Eames had fallen immediately and irreversibly in love, because personality had nothing to do with anything in those days. Eames felt himself drawn closer to Artureus, who was slim but glared at Eames in a way that promised a severe ass-whooping should Eames overstep his boundaries. Only, being blinded by love, Eames mistook his stranger’s murderous intent for the same intense ardor he suddenly felt and after removing his lion’s hide toga, dyed a garish purple by a few friendly Phoenicians, he slipped into the stream only centimeters from where Artureus stood, glistening in the moonlight like a river god.

“Forgive me for intruding, but I feel absolutely compelled to be near you. You see, I saw you from afar and I was drawn in by your beauty and a positively carnal need to do salacious things to your perfect rear.”

He had expected a far gentler grip when his new love reached out his hand and curled his fingers around Eames’s testes.

“Darling,” our hero choked out through the mostly unpleasant feeling the stranger’s grip was having on his most precious treasures. “I would have wooed you first.”

Thus, the most epic of all romances (all the forgotten ones anyway) was begun and then, immediately interrupted. For Pan, king of the satyrs, patron god of shepherds and goats and other boring stuff, had been lurking nearby, hoping to catch Artureus by surprise, as if that would make him more susceptible to being ravished against his will. Pan could not stand to lose Artureus to anyone but Apollo and Apollo only got dibs because seriously? Arrows made of pure sunlight? Ouch. But to Eames? The laziest demigod ever? No way. So Pan burst forth from the bushes, leveling a glare at his brother from beneath his tangled and greasy hair.

“Eames!”

“Brother!”

“Brother?”

Artureus came to a halt as he was pulling himself from the stream, but both sons of Hermes had been struck dumb by the way even the water seemed to cling to his skin, reluctant to part from him. Also, _dat ass_. It was only after Artureus had covered all of his more distracting bits with his newly cleaned toga that Eames was able to recover his faculties and properly answer the inquiry. Delighted, Eames pulled himself from the stream and, naked, knelt before Artureus, grasping desperately at his slim and elegant fingers (which were totally calloused and matched his veiny arms okay? So _shutup_ ).

“I am Eames, son of Hermes, soldier of fortune, … and, um, _other things_.”

Until the fateful night that Eames and Artureus found each other, Eames had not had to do much more than open his mouth and say ‘hello’ when he wanted to bed someone and it was not until the very moment that he was listing his feats to his newly found love that he realized they were actually not very impressive at all.

And Artureus, who was expecting serious heroic deeds because demigod= hero _duh_ , responded with cutting wit, “Um. Okay.”

  
Pan, totally pissed off at having been forgotten, chose that moment to remind Artureus of the night’s impending festival, which really, Yusuf could figure out a reason to throw a festival every night, which he pretty much did. Pan thought this might be a way to get Artureus to stop looking at Eames in a way that suggested that he wasn’t a total loser. But instead Artureus grew thoughtful, because Eames was no longer draped in a fine layer of filth and he was still very naked and _very_ impressive, and did not remove his (very manly) hand from Eames’s grasp.

“Will you come to the festival, Eames, son of Hermes?” Artureus asked of him, ignoring the way Pan dug a hoof into the ground in frustration, and arched his brow in a way that had Eames’s phallus filling.

“Oh darling, I can guarantee that I’ll _come_.”

And with a subtle blush that Artureus would later insist was entirely righteous indignation, he left Eames and Pan behind and strode off into the forest and did _not_ sway his hips in a way that drew attention to his ass _at all_.But Pan, furious at being snubbed, left his brother with a warning before he too disappeared into the brush.

"I suggest you be wary. Artureus can pretend all he wants, but he belongs to Apollo."

Alas! Eames did not pay Pan's warning any mind. He had forgotten his quest entirely in the moment he had seen Artureus, completely oblivious to the fact that he had fallen in love with the very nymph he was meant to seduce. Oh, the irony!

... probably.

Irony's tricky.

…

For the first time in his entire life, however long that might have been- Artureus kept track of everything, but his own birthdays had become tedious after the first fifty or so- Artureus allowed the other nymphs to fawn over him.He let them curl his natural waves into ringlets around their fingers and weave him a crown of flowers that brought out the sparkle in his eyes.And through it all he actually smiled at them and they forgot the power of his glares and biting words and became enamored of him once more.

Ariadne found him surrounded by other nymphs, allowing them to lay their hands on every inch of his person, and _giggling_ at the asinine stories they were telling him.

Ariadne screwed up her face until her normally large brown orbs were but slits above her rosy cheeks.

Quickly feeling unsettled, Artureus sobered.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“I’m squinting at you.Theseus taught me how.Does it make you want to tell me all of your darkest secrets?”

“Not really, no.”

Ariadne pouted but then noticed the goblet of wine in Artureus’s hand and perked up.

“Tell me anyway or the maenads.”

“You can’t threaten me with that every time you don’t get your way.”

“I can, but I like you so, most likely, I won’t actually do it.”

And as love will make fools of us all, so it softened the normally stone resolve of the virgin nymph and he recounted his encounter with Eames and his hopes that Eames might be the hero he’d been hoping for.

…

The festival was a glorious thing, with dancing and drinking and feasting galore.Eames drank until his limbs felt weightless and ate until his stomach felt weighted with stones and through it all, his eyes never left the sight of Artureus, who, every so often, would grace Eames with a dimpled smile before pretending to turn his attention back to whatever nameless creature was speaking to him.Eames waited until he could bear it no more, the ceaseless chatter around him like so many flies on a dung pile, and stole away to capture the focus of Artureus for himself.

They slipped into the night, most all of the revelers too blinded by wine to notice them go, and ran until the world was silent, before falling into each other’s arms.Their kisses were passionate, their mouths fitted together as if molded for the very moment in which they would find each other.Locked in Artureus’s embrace, Eames forgot every other man, woman, nymph, and several creatures of questionable origin, that he had ever taken to bed.There was only Artureus with his clever hands and the brilliant way they slid beneath Eames’s animal pelt and danced along his skin.

“This is ugliest thing I have ever seen,” he whispered as he tore the pelt from Eames’s body and threw it to the ground

Eames allowed the insult against his fashion sense to pass because before him, Artureus was hiking his own toga up around his waist and blushing like a virgin maid.

“I give myself to you.I am pure and virtuous and all yours, great hero.”

Eames’s desire did not deflate at being called a hero because Artureus was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and for him, Eames would be anything.He enveloped Artureus’s lithe body in his arms and took Artureus in hand, reveling in the little gasps that escaped from between his rosy lips.

“Don’t worry, my love.I will gladly take my place as your erastes and teach you all the ways there are to love.”

“Oh Eam… wait a second, _my what_?”

“Your erastes?And you will be my eromenos and I will teach you all the-“

“Yea, I heard you.I’m not _fourteen_ , Eames.”

“But,” and Eames gestured at Artureus’s slim frame and youthful face.

“I’m an immortal nymph.It’s good genes.I’m probably older than you are.”

Eames grew pale with understanding.

“You… You’re a-“

“Guy nymph, yes.Weird, I know.I will give you precisely five seconds to process that and get over it and then I expect you to get over here and screw my brains out.”

“A virgin nymph,” Eames whispered so quietly that Artureus did not so much as bat an eye.“Bugger.”

Let it not be said that Eames had _no_ sense of honor. It may have been a very tiny part of him, easily overshadowed by greed and lust and the inherent desire to focus on protecting his own ass, but that was the modus operandi of most of the great heroes, so Eames was not alone in this. But when it came to Artureus, Eames found himself torn. On one end, he desperately wanted to take beautiful Artureus there in the grass and on the other, he desperately wanted to take Artureus there in the grass and then run away with him so that he would never find out that Eames had any ulterior motives whatsoever. Neither option involved telling Artureus the truth or any variation thereof. Okay, so honor be damned.

The largest hurdle Eames believed he would have to face was convincing Artureus to leave his home in the forests below Olympus and while he contemplated this issue and how to go about solving it, leaning towards attempting to do so post-orgasm as the most effective option, the awkward tension in the air began to grow thick and palpable.

And lo, Artureus began to stroke himself lazily, watching with veiled uncertainty as Eames warred with himself internally. And Eames's resolve was broken by the confident Artureus crumbling in the face of this possible rejection and the pearly drop of his essence that glistened at the tip of his phallus and called to Eames's tongue.

"Is it the nymph thing? Or that I'm older than you? Because I can pretend to be your eromenos, if that's your thing. I'm flexible, figuratively... literally too. Really, really bendy..."

Artureus's voice wavered in a way that simply clawed at Eames's heart and he fell to his knees and clutched at Artureus's slender thighs ( _manly thighs_ , thick and strong like a tree trunk, and not a sapling either, but a full grown one, _damnit_ ).

Eames decided that maybe this moment was not the best one in which to speak, for fear of babbling out truths he would rather keep to himself in the face of his overwhelming, and bordering on totally unwelcome, emotions. In the span of a thought, Eames decided that his best plan of action would be to give Artureus the best orgasm(s) of his life and then simply carry him off while he dozed in a fucked out haze. Eames grinned widely at his own brilliance and promptly sucked Artureus fully into his mouth, relishing in the man's ~~breathy squeals~~ throaty moans of pleasure.

When Eames could feel Artureus's knees about to buckle, he caught the nymph around his hips and lowered him to the ground. When Artureus came with a shout, Eames swallowed around him, happy to taste his essence and reluctant to break the connection between himself and the man he loved. Artureus smiled fondly upon him and stroked his hair with shaky fingers and Eames began to believe that perhaps he would not be forced to kidnap Artureus at all.

…

And so Eames had completed his labor. He had seduced the virgin nymph and was no longer indebted to Zeus, but he had found himself burdened with a labor of a different kind, the labor of love.

"Come away with me, pet," he whispered into Artureus's milky-white skin and extended a snaggle-toothed grin at the brilliance of Artureus's clever dimples.

"Anywhere."

But alas, it was not to be so simple for our heroes, for Eames had ignored Pan's warning and had not known of Pan's own designs on Artureus's succulent rump. Would that he had run away with Artureus first, events may have proceeded differently, but there is no entertainment in that.

As Eames and Artureus lay in the dewy grass of their secret grotto, neither of them heard the rustling of leaves over their own exultations and that was to be their doom. For they had been followed by the goat-god himself and the truly cursed part of Eames's labor was only about to begin. He would soon know the full wrath of Apollo and the epic force of one of his tantrums.

…

In any other circumstance, Eames might have waxed poetic about the lovely way Artureus's jaw slackened during his orgasm but, as it was, he began to grow antsy about being discovered by Apollo, having just thoroughly ravished the only of his desired conquests to not only turn him down but also not end up an inanimate object afterward.Eames had no delusions about ending up a weeping rock or a lovely tree.No, Eames would end up as dust, finely ground demi-god dust that would, if he was _lucky_ , end up mixed in with some clay which would end up shaping the gruesomely over-sized phallus of a statue of his father, guarding some Athenian doorway.

If his story was to be a tragedy, he would have it end quite more dramatically than that. Only after Apollo had chased him halfway around the known world and some parts unknown, would he be willing to lay his life down.He simply couldn't imagine his mother bragging over the washing to the other women about her son, the dust mote.So Eames roused Artureus gently from his peaceful post-orgasmic slumber by unceremoniously dropping the poor nymph from his arms as he sat up quickly.Artureus hit the ground with an audible thud.

"Hades's tits, Eames!What the hell!"

"I do believe it's time you got a jump start on that coming away with me bit, darling.Maybe leave off with the taking of the gods' names in vain for just a tad.I hear Carthage is quite nice this time of year, Egypt too. Really anywhere with a different pantheon of gods will do nicely."

Artureus began to glower as Eames rushed him back into his toga, but he was given no time to allow it to turn into something truly fearsome for at that very moment, the lovers' hopes were dashed.Their personal grotto became alight with a golden glow and they found themselves in the company of Apollo, in all his glory, looking rightly pissed off.Pan hid behind the god's legs, smirking at Eames from behind one golden kneecap.

"You little weasel," Eames growled beneath his breath, but Pan only laughed and Eames could do nothing but wish with all his might that he had heeded Pan's warning when there had still been time.Hindsight being 20/20 and all that.

After several seconds of patiently waiting to be smitten, and absolutely not peeing his pelt in fear, Eames became aware that he was still very much breathing and Apollo was speaking.

"Seriously, Artureus, _this guy_?After all the effort I've put into wooing you, you pick _this guy_?"

Artureus stood before Apollo with his arms crossed over his chest and his nose turned up in defiance.

"I _like_ him.He wants to take me places."

"But, but he's just a son of _Hermes_ ," Apollo went unfazed by the indignant looks shot him by both Pan and Eames."I'm the son of _Zeus,_ Artureus."

"And there are definitely some daddy issues there," Eames huffed, beginning to feel put out by the fact that Apollo hadn't even _threatened_ to smite him yet.He was totally worth smiting.

"This is so _unfair_.I totally could have loved you, Artureus, but you never even gave me a chance."

"Oh please.You would have dumped me for the first pretty thing to come along and don't even try to deny it."

"Well, I never said I would be faithful!I mean, that's just silly."

"Eames will be faithful.”

“ _Him_?Please, he’s only even here because Zeus made him come.”

At this, Eames’s heart constricted and he began to wish fervently that somebody, somewhere would please get smitten, just to take the heat off of him.

“Well, he’s a hero.He’s completing a labor, aren’t you Eames?”

The look on sweet Artureus’s face was so earnest and hopeful that Eames could not bear it.He wanted nothing more than to pull the man into his arms and hold him tightly, and maybe a pair of his father's winged sandals. Those would probably have been immensely helpful.

“I _am_ on a labor…”

“A labor to get you laid!”Pan exclaimed before a red-cheeked Artureus punched him in the face.

“Eames?”

Eames hesitated, trying to think of the easiest way, or any way really, to turn the tide to his favor.It wasn’t going well.

“My father is jealous because I’m more popular than he is and he sent this guy to seduce you as a totally immature way to get back at me.But it’s okay because I forgive you, Artureus, and now that you know that loverboy here is a fraud, you and I can go home and I can show you how a real man does things.”

Artureus’s carefully constructed façade of indifference crumbled before Eames’s eyes, his face flushing with color and tears welling in his eyes.Eames, for his part, was completely ready to throw himself to the ground and wail to the high heavens should Artureus choose to leave him (because real men cry, damnit, ask Achilles.)But it was not to be, for Artureus wanted things, had always wanted things, and he wasn’t about to let a spoiled god and a few lies get in the way of him getting those things.He wanted sex and he wanted adventure and if Eames was his ticket to that lifestyle, he could forgive the demigod a few falsehoods.He would be sure to let Eames know there would be no more lies in the future though, and he would _very_ convincing about it.

“No.I’m going to go with Eames.I am pretty sure that I love him… _mostly_ sure.”

“Darling?”

“ _WHAT_?”

And suddenly, before their eyes, Apollo began to glow brighter, until the entire forest was lit up with golden light and Eames watched in petrified horror as Apollo’s eyes began to burn red with fury.He watched with mild annoyance as Pan, now sporting the beginnings of an impressive black eye, scurried to the tree line as fast as his little goat legs would carry him.Realizing that he was going to be smitten after all, Eames reached out for Artureus’s hand, determined to die beside the one he loved since there didn’t seem to be any way around it.Eames’s skin started to burn as Apollo began to shine as brightly as the sun and he braced himself for death and then there was the deafening rumble of thunder and the burning smell of sulfur and Eames took one final breath and…

Nothing happened.

When he dared open his eyes again, Eames was faced with being able to see absolutely nothing for a good minute, and then the sight of Apollo unconscious on the ground in the midst of a patch of burnt grass and Zeus standing stoic in front of him.

“Um,” he spoke.Artureus squeezed his hand so tightly he was pretty sure he could feel the bones grinding together, in tacit support of his obvious ability to think on his feet.

“Against my better judgment, I have grown to like you, Eames son of Hermes.Also, I am a sucker for a happy ending.I am giving you a head start.Go someplace far away.It may be a while before Apollo gets over this particular slight.”

“What about Pan?”Artureus demanded, cheeks still red.

“I am sure Apollo will be delighted to take his immediate anger out upon the closest being when he wakes up.It would be convenient for all if that being just so happens to be the satyr.”

“Right then.Thank you so very much, Almighty Zeus, and I sincerely hope that I never see you again.”Eames turned to Artureus and clutched his hands to his own heart.“Well darling?”

Artureus smirked, clever dimples winking in his cheeks, before he pushed forward on tiptoe and kissed Eames soundly on the mouth.“I hear Carthage is nice this time of year.”

“Apollo will run us down hard,” Eames warned, snaggle-toothed smile betraying the severity of his warning.

Artureus’s eyes sparkled as he grinned.“And we will lead him on a merry chase.”

…

And so they did, until they were all but forgotten by Apollo and all of history, until now.They roamed the world together, with nothing but time on their hands and love in their hearts.With Artureus gone much of history’s greatest stories were lost and it is generally understood that, had he stayed at Olympus, the dark ages would never have happened.

But Artureus had found his hero and made his own legend and he couldn’t have cared less if his story was forgotten when Orpheus’s was remembered, because Orpheus ended up a constellation and constellations don’t get to have sex.

And thus ends the ballad of Artureus, manliest of nymphs, and Eames, most honorable of cads... as far as legend is concerned.


End file.
